Gravity
by patientalien
Summary: After coming out of the Zone of SelfContainment, Anakin looks for something to duplicate the feeling.
1. gravity plays favorites

**A/N**: This is an AU of the _Jedi Quest_ universe, taking place after book 7. You don't have to have read it to understand what's going on, though. 

**Disclaimer:** The Great Flanneled One owns all. I am just borrowing.

------

… _I'm getting too familiar with the floor  
Trading in my talents by the mouthful.  
Hate to break it to ya  
But it's out of my control  
Voices go to work while we are sleeping  
If I could attack with a more sensible approach  
Obviously, that's what I'd be doing.  
- "Gravity", The Dresden Dolls_

---

It was never truly dark on Coruscant. Lights from passing speeders, billboards, and massive buildings lit up the night sky like pinpoint beacons. Even in the lower levels, there were streetlamps and spotlights, and although it was dark_er_, it still had the feeling of filtered daylight.

There were shadows in the lower levels. Losing oneself was easy down here, despite the light. Slip into the shadows and disappear, as so many had over the years. Anakin Skywalker had discovered that his dark-colored Jedi robes only helped him fade into the background. He skirted from shadow to shadow, ducking into the occasional club or bar, trying to find something – anything – that could give him peace.

Anakin hated what he was becoming. Since coming out of the Zone of Self-Containment, he'd been searching for something to duplicate the feeling – or lack of. The contentment, the pleasant awareness that the Zone had provided him was something he knew he would never achieve on his own. No matter how much he meditated, no matter how he tried to release his anxieties and anger into the Force, he couldn't seem to find that sensation again.

So here he was, in the lower city, trying to find it in a different way. He hated that he'd been lying to Obi-Wan, hated that his performance in his classes and on missions was suffering, hated the out-of-control feeling so many of the substances he'd tried provided.

Still, he searched. Still he tried anything handed to him, drank anything that even remotely looked like it would take the edge off his Force-sense. He didn't want to dull his powers, but he didn't want to _feel_ so strongly, so passionately. Time and time again he'd been told that a Jedi was calm and emotionally steady. Anakin was neither, and he had realized that he would never been a good Jedi if he couldn't find a way to damper his swirling emotions.

He kept the hood of his cloak up, partially to hide his Padawan braid, partially to provide himself with at least the semblance of security. He had his lightsaber, and so far hadn't had to use it – but given where he was, and who he'd been dealing with, it was better to be prepared.

He followed the shadows to a bar he'd never been to before. So hole-in-the-wall that it didn't even have a sign over the door, the bar was dim and smoky and Anakin knew that nothing legal was going on within its walls. The air felt as sticky as the floor, but Anakin ignored the unpleasantness and perched himself on one of the barstools. Apparently the bar only served one type of liquor, because before he could even order the bartender had slammed down a glass of something purplish and moved away.

Anakin picked up the glass and eyed the liquid critically. It didn't smell too foul, at least. Raising the glass to his lips, he scanned the bar, picking out the potential dealers – that Twi'lek in the corner seemed like a pretty good bet.

The liquor was sweet and cloying, and reminded Anakin of the medicine his mother would give him whenever he was ill as a child. The thought of his mother sent a cold stab of guilt into his gut. What would she think if she knew what he was doing? He'd wanted so much to make her proud… what was there to find pride in _here_?

To console himself, Anakin knocked back the rest of the drink and told himself that he was doing this to become a better Jedi. If he was going to be a great Jedi, a Jedi to fulfill a prophecy, he needed to be able to be free of emotions. The Zone of Self-Containment had given him that, but now…

The purplish liquor was replaced almost the moment Anakin set his empty glass on the bar. He scanned the dark room again, and again decided that the Twi'lek was his best bet for the time being. The other being didn't look armed – that didn't mean anything, but it didn't hurt – and seemed to be conspicuously trying to remain inconspicuous. Anakin made quick work of his second drink and made his way over to the Twi'lek.

"Want a favor?" the Twi'lek asked in heavily accented Basic. Anakin was disgusted with himself that he knew the street language as well as anyone who made their business in it.

Anakin flashed his credit chit, making sure to shield his actions from the rest of the room with his cloak. "What are you offering?" He didn't even sound like himself, down here. Anakin could feel something dark and fearful twisting around his heart, and he forced himself to ignore it.

The Twi'lek reached into the folds of his own cloak and drew out a vial of bright blue powder. "Crash and Burn," he said softly. "Best out there. Pure." He eyed Anakin's credit chit. "You can try some now, but then it's 20 credits per."

Anakin sighed, and waved his hand slightly. "10 credits," he murmured, feeling sick, his hate for himself and his wriggling twisting fear increasing. What would Obi-Wan say if he could see Anakin using his powers this way? What would any of his fellow Padawans say?

It didn't matter what they would say, Anakin told himself sternly, because they weren't going to find out. Simple.

"For you," the Twi'lek said, "ten credits." He held out the vial with two fingers, the long nails scraping against each other in a way Anakin was convinced only _he_ could hear.

"I'll try it first," Anakin replied, sliding into the seat across from his new business partner. He accepted the vial from the Twi'lek and held it up to the light. The powder was actually some kind of crystalline substance, and Anakin wondered what, exactly, was in it. Or what it would do. He was being foolish, stupid, taking substances like this, with no regard to their potential effects. He didn't care. He _needed_ to be a better Jedi, be a better _man_. How could he do that with his emotions so out of control?

The Twi'lek raised a hand and a moment later, another glass of the purple liquid was deposited in front of Anakin. "Mix it all in," the dealer instructed him. "It's the best way. Less noticeable… evidence of use."

Ah. No track marks or corroded nasal passages or damaged lungs. It was quite clever, Anakin decided, doing as he was told. The blue crystals did not do anything to alter the taste of the syrupy liquor, but Anakin could feel them working almost instantly.

The first thing he noticed was calm. The voice in the back of his head yelling at him that this had all been a horrible idea was silenced; the slithering fear and shame had retreated. He could feel his perceptions shifting, becoming clearer, less addled by outside influence. _This_ was what he'd been looking for. Although he felt slightly sluggish and lightheaded, he decided that the drinks he'd consumed could account for that.

This was _it_.


	2. I know it cause I saw

Someone had turned on the sun and taken away his blankets.

Anakin rolled over and groaned loudly, more for show than anything else, and wondered where he was. He cracked open one eye and glanced around. He was in his own room, in the apartment he shared with Obi-Wan at the Jedi Temple. The window shades had been opened, and his blankets had been yanked off of him and thrown into a heap at the foot of the bed – Obi-Wan's doing, no doubt.

Rolling out of bed and onto the floor with a resounding thud, Anakin tried to get his head around what had happened the night before. No more of the blue crystalline powder, although he had bought five vials of it for later use, but plenty more of that purple medicine-like liquor. No wonder he felt like he had gone head-to-head with a rancor and lost. He could only remember returning to the apartment in flashes, and even then he wasn't sure what had really happened and what his brain was simply filling in on its own.

He just hoped he wasn't not-remembering something important.

"_Anakin! Breakfast!_" Obi-Wan's voice filtered in from the main living area, along with what Anakin deemed was _far_ too much noise to constitute normal breakfast preparations.

"Guh!" Anakin responded, finding himself incapable of any other form of speech. He lay on the floor for a long moment, then rolled to his feet, nearly toppling over as his foot hit the pile of bedding. He didn't bother with a shower – he was too tired for that, and doubted his ability to stand up under his own power for any length of time – and instead pulled on the same clothing he had worn the day before.

Reaching into one of the pouches on his belt, Anakin withdrew the vials he'd purchased, hiding all but one safely away under his mattress. With a sudden clarity, Anakin realized that he didn't feel nearly as guilty as he should. Here he was, getting ready to take an illicit drug right in the presence of his master – in the Jedi temple, no less. It was one thing to restrict such activities to the lower city and the shadows there, but to bring it back with him to his real life, his real world… He knew he should feel much, much guiltier about tainting the purity of this aspect of his life.

And that thought in and of itself brought his guilty feelings up to acceptable levels.

Anakin wrapped his robe around himself and went into the kitchen, shame and desperation coiling around his stomach upon seeing Obi-Wan. His master would be so angry, so… disappointed, if he were to know the truth. But then, he always seemed disappointed and angry, even when Anakin was trying his hardest.

Anakin sighed softly, and drew his hands up into the sleeves of his robe. He just couldn't win. But at least with this new discovery, he would have a fighting chance. "Good morning, Master," he breathed, not wanting to look too eager to sit down, but at the same time certain he was going to fall over if he wasn't able to sit _very soon_.

"Good morning, Padawan," Obi-Wan replied, his back to Anakin – which, really, was preferable for the moment. Anakin dropped into a chair and laid his head down on the table – not very good etiquette, but it was that or pass out, and he had a feeling passing out before breakfast would only make Obi-Wan start asking questions.

"Don't forget, we have a meeting with the Council about Jenna Zan Arbor after breakfast," Obi-Wan said, sounding _far_ too cheerful for this hour of the morning. Then again, Anakin thought, Obi-Wan wasn't the one with a hangover of galactic proportions.

"Muh," Anakin responded. He didn't want to have to talk about Jenna Zan Arbor, or what she had done to him. He didn't want to explain, yet again, the Zone of Self-Containment, and see the collective Council peering into his soul to discover precisely what Ferus Olin had said – that Anakin had _enjoyed_ feeling nothing. And he didn't want to face the Council without that wonderful numbness, that glorious, penetrating not-feeling.

Obi-Wan placed a glass of juice in front of Anakin's head, and turned back to his breakfast preparations. "Your vocabulary is improving by leaps and bounds, Padawan," he observed dryly.

Anakin rolled his eyes and raised his head, withdrawing the vial of Crash and Burn from the folds of his robe. He wasn't sure it would work in a non-alcoholic beverage, but it was worth a try. And if it didn't, there were… other ways. He was _not_ going to deal with a Council meeting feeling such guilt and shame. With Obi-Wan's back still turned, and trying to hold his shields in place as much as his headache would allow, Anakin stirred the contents of the vial into his juice and took a long draught.

There it was.

_Peace_.

--

Obi-Wan Kenobi had wanted to do anything besides talk about how he had nearly lost Anakin to Jenna Zan Arbor. Although he struggled to bring himself into the present, it was difficult to talk about the plans to hunt down Zan Arbor without thinking about what _could_ have been.

He had gotten Anakin back – he should rejoice for that. But sometimes it seemed like he hadn't gotten _all_ of Anakin back. Something had been left behind in that medical facility, and Obi-Wan couldn't put his finger on what it was. Something was _different_ about his Padawan, and Obi-Wan felt like he was failing as a master for not being able to sense what was wrong.

Today, for instance. Anakin's normally tumultuous Force signature was muted, subdued, and Obi-Wan wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Anakin himself seemed rather subdued, not to mention exhausted. Exhausted seemed to be how Anakin looked more often than not, lately, although his Force signature had begun to vary wildly. Although Obi-Wan wanted to attribute it to Anakin trying to master the new meditation and self-calming techniques he was learning, something told him that wasn't all.

Obi-Wan often wondered if worrying to the point of frustration was a normal state of being for a master. Did Qui-Gon ever feel this way about _him_?

Doubtful. As difficult as Obi-Wan's training had been at times, he hadn't had to deal with the stigma of being the Chosen One, nor had he had a life outside the Temple, as Anakin once did. Obi-Wan had no attachments; he didn't know his parents, nor did the question of who they were ever cross his mind. The Jedi were his family, and always had been. Anakin, on the other hand, had a mother who he knew and loved. He attached himself to people easily, much to Obi-Wan's chagrin, and he had not been conditioned from a young age to control his emotions.

Anakin and Obi-Wan were worlds apart, and never did Obi-Wan feel the divide more clearly than on mornings like this, when he could barely recognize his Padawan.

The meeting had gone by in a blur. Anakin had done most of the talking, in a calm, even tone of voice that chilled Obi-Wan to the core. Finally, the Council determined to further research Zan Arbor's holdings in the Outer Rim, and they had been dismissed.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan asked gently, putting a hand on Anakin's shoulder. Surely it couldn't be easy for his apprentice to keep recalling the details of his imprisonment, especially when Obi-Wan himself could barely think about it without feeling sick to his stomach.

"I'm fine," Anakin said, and walked away.

Obi-Wan was beginning to hate watching his apprentice walk away.


	3. honesttogod officer

Cold fingers of guilt gripped Anakin's heart, and he wished he had sampled the drug while sober so he could have been prepared for the inevitable coming-down. Anger and hate bubbled up in him, bringing with them nausea and a despair so deep it threatened to bring him to his knees.

So _this_ was the "crash" in "Crash and Burn."

Anakin clenched his fists, feeling his joints popping under the strain. He _hated_ Zan Arbor for making him do this. How _dare_ that woman give him a taste of something so wonderful, only to have it ripped away, leaving him with this – this burning hatred, this overwhelming shame. This _need_, this _yearning_, for something more.

He hated Obi-Wan. For not listening. For not _understanding_. For setting the bar so impossibly high that Anakin was all but destined for failure. He loathed Obi-Wan's perfection, his unerring sense of propriety, his unwavering dedication to the Code. He hated Obi-Wan for rescuing him. He could have been _happy._

Most of all, though, Anakin hated _himself_, what he was becoming. He hated that he'd desperately excused himself from his class, only to run back to the apartment and throw his mattress to the floor through the Force, grabbing a vial and mixing it into the first liquid he came across.

Warm calm flooded his senses, and Anakin sank to the floor, head in his hands. If he had any question about the value of what he was doing, this feeling was the answer. This peace made everything all right. Everything would work out. Everything would be fine. Whatever he felt while coming down would fade away just as easily. He wasn't happy, but he was calm.

And that was a start.

--

The first thing Obi-Wan noticed when he entered the apartment was how _quiet_ it was. Normally when Anakin was around, there was always some kind of noise: blaring music, the clattering of dishes, the various mechanical and electronic noises of whatever his new project was. Today… nothing.

He could sense Anakin's muted presence, and there were signs of him – a robe haphazardly flung over a chair, his boots beside the door, lightsaber on the kitchen table. And yet… something was wrong. Something was _off_.

"Anakin?" Pulling off his own robe, Obi-Wan crossed the threshold into the main living area. To his surprise, Anakin was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, a glass of juice on the floor beside him. At the sound of Obi-Wan's voice, the young Padawan turned his head slightly in acknowledgement, then went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Are you all right, Padawan?" Obi-Wan prompted, moving closer to the couch. He knit his brows in puzzlement, for where normally he would feel tumultuous, barely-contained emotions, there was little more than a contented hum in Anakin's Force-signature.

Anakin turned his head again and looked up at Obi-Wan with half-lidded eyes. "I'm fine, Master," he responded, and Obi-Wan realized that even Anakin's _voice_ was different. "Stop worrying."

_Somebody has to_, Obi-Wan's inner voice chided before he could stop it. He had tried, these past few days – weeks, really – to keep his worry for Anakin to a minimum, to tell himself that Anakin's actions lately were perfectly understandable, given what he had been through. It would take some time to readjust to life in the Temple, to a life of emotion.

But just where were Anakin's emotions today? It was as though a blanket had been thrown over what Obi-Wan normally felt from his apprentice, with all the normal feelings still _there_, but… held at bay by something Obi-Wan couldn't see.

Obi-Wan perched on the arm of the couch and gazed critically at his Padawan. "Have you been working on those meditations Master Yoda suggested?" he asked, trying to illicit a sentence of more than three words.

Anakin nodded. "Yes, Master. I feel much calmer."

Four words. That was a start, at least. It seemed like lately he was counting smaller and smaller things as breakthroughs, something that both confounded and irritated Obi-Wan. Where once the prospect of Anakin mastering a new kata level filled Obi-Wan with pride, now he felt the same success if Anakin spoke to him more than twice in one day.

Part of it was probably the age, Obi-Wan had been told by the other masters. Obi-Wan remembered his own teenage years all too clearly – it wasn't as though he was so much older than Anakin that he couldn't recall how it felt to be that age. But still, it went back to the fact that Anakin was not Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan had little to go on to try and connect.

But beyond the expected difficulties that came with living with a teenager, there was something else. Something… something Obi-Wan knew he had to get to the bottom of, if he had any hopes of succeeding as Anakin's master.


	4. it's awful

Sneaking out was much easier, Anakin realized, when he didn't feel guilty and didn't have to shield his emotions so strongly. He was able to achieve a kind of mental invisibility that allowed him to pass through the Temple unseen. Down in the lower levels, his cloak and the shadows did the rest.

Finding the bar again was a little difficult, but an hour or so of slipping in and out of the shadows brought him back – and just in time, too. The purple liquor took the edge off his anger until he spotted the Twi'lek dealer in a darkened corner.

"Back already?" the Twi'lek asked as Anakin approached. Not in any sort of mood for small talk, Anakin impatiently slammed his credit chit down on the table and slid into the booth.

"How do I get it to last longer?" he asked, beginning to feel slightly desperate as the dam holding his emotions at bay began to crack. He couldn't be coming down here every night. As easy as it was to come and go, the more he did it, the more chance there was that he would be caught. Besides, the temptation to lose himself in this world was too great. He had no self-control down here.

The Twi'lek eyed him, and withdrew a vial from the depths of his robes. "Don't dilute it, and you'll only need half."

Icy fingers of dread clenched Anakin's stomach, and he gulped down his drink in an attempt to melt them. That hadn't been the answer he'd wanted, but he didn't know what other answer he could have expected.

In the end, though, it didn't matter. Anakin would do what he needed to do.

--

The continuing newfound quiet of Obi-Wan's life with Anakin was beginning to unnerve the Jedi Master. Although all of Anakin's instructors had been coming to him with glowing praise for his Padawan over the course of recent weeks, Obi-Wan was having trouble accepting Anakin's sudden transformation at face value.

Truth be told, he missed the controlled chaos. He missed bantering with Anakin, missed his apprentice's unwavering ability to question everything told him. This new Anakin barely spoke, spent most of his time studying or meditating. And although Obi-Wan told himself he should be pleased, he couldn't help feeling that something wasn't right.

The sound of Anakin's door opening made Obi-Wan snap his head up. So rarely did Anakin venture from his room lately that any sight of him made Obi-Wan feel a slight thrill. "Anakin," he said softly, wishing he could find words for what he needed to say.

Anakin turned and bowed slightly. "Master?" he asked, sniffing and running the arm of his robe across his face. Obi-Wan wondered distantly how long Anakin had been fighting that cold – it seemed like…

Well, about the same amount of time as he'd been the perfect Padawan, really. Obi-Wan knew that there was probably a connection, but he couldn't for the life of him put the two things together. "Anakin, come sit down," Obi-Wan instructed, patting the empty space beside him on the couch.

Anakin seemed to hesitate, but dutifully did as he was told and settled gracefully next to Obi-Wan. Seeing him this close, Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice the redness ringing Anakin's eyes, the puffiness of his cheeks. If Obi-Wan didn't know any better, he could swear his apprentice had been _crying_.

"Whatever is troubling you, Anakin, you know you can come to me," he assured the young man, putting a hand on Anakin's shoulder and feeling him tense under his touch.

"Nothing is troubling me, Master," Anakin replied calmly, flatly. Obi-Wan knew he was lying, but could not _sense_ as much. In fact, he could hardly sense anything at all from Anakin. His Padawan had obviously been working on his shielding, a fact that made Obi-Wan feel a pang of grief.

Didn't Anakin trust him anymore?

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "I know you've been working very hard lately," he started, and felt Anakin shift uncomfortably under his touch. "But you must be careful not to push yourself _too_ hard. I am proud of you, no matter what."

Anakin looked at him inquisitively. "I… I'm not pushing myself too hard, Master. I've just… figured out how to do it right, that's all." His voice wavered slightly, but Obi-Wan was impressed at the speed with which Anakin composed himself.

No, "impressed" wasn't the word. While it might have been in time past, now Obi-Wan was _disturbed_ by the speed with which Anakin composed himself.

Brushing off Obi-Wan's hand, Anakin stood. "Now if you'll excuse me, Master, I really have to go study." With another sniff and another face-wipe, Anakin returned to his room before Obi-Wan could respond.

Obi-Wan stared after his Padawan, wishing, certainly not for the first time, that he could talk to Qui-Gon again.

--

Anakin couldn't believe how close he'd come to panicking out there. What did Obi-Wan know? He'd been working so hard on his shielding, and yet Obi-Wan had seemed to see right through him. So why hadn't his master said anything?

Anakin felt lightheaded as he realized exactly why Obi-Wan hadn't said anything. He was going to go to the Council. He was going to expose the true reason Anakin had been excelling in his classes, and the Council was going to use it as their excuse to be rid of him.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to center himself, Anakin struggled to remind himself that these feelings were just side-effects, that he couldn't possibly be thinking straight. And yet… these thoughts had such a ring of truth to them.

Glancing at his bedside table, Anakin decided he didn't care if he was doubling the dosage. He needed the guilt to _go away_. Waving the drawer open with the Force, Anakin set about calling one of the vials he had stashed there to him.

Nothing came.

Anakin's breath caught in his chest, and nausea poured over him. No, no. He just wasn't focusing enough, that was all. He walked over to the drawer and peered in. Nothing. The vials that remained were all empty. Surely he couldn't have taken all of it already. Surely this was some mistake.

Reaching out with the Force, Anakin struggled to figure out what had happened. Only one answer sprang to his mind, try as he might to wish it away.

_Obi-Wan_.

Obi-Wan had invaded his privacy, had discovered his secret, and had said _nothing._

A rage so deep it burned every fiber of his being filled him, and with a guttural cry, Anakin dropped to his knees. His life was falling down around him, and it was all Obi-Wan's fault.


	5. the sky is always

"HOW COULD YOU?"

For the first time in weeks, Obi-Wan could feel his Padawan's emotions – and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. Anger, hatred, and desperation rolled off Anakin in waves, and Obi-Wan tried to reconcile the conversation and void of emotion that had just occurred with what he was seeing now.

Anakin, standing in his doorway, quivering with rage. "_How could you_?" he repeated, his voice breaking in his anger. "You had _no right_. NO RIGHT!" Anakin's hand shot out, and Obi-Wan found he had to duck to avoid a Force-flung lamp.

He sprang to his feet, his mind already in full defensive mode. He had never seen Anakin acting like this, and behind his Force-aided calm, Obi-Wan was terrified. "Anakin! Calm yourself!" he demanded, deciding to focus on getting Anakin to stop hurling things at him and _then_ deal with the cause.

Anakin's eyes flashed, and Obi-Wan deflected a dish hurtling from the kitchen. "That's _my_ room! _My_ stuff! How could you take it? Did you think I wouldn't _notice_?" He was shouting now, tears welling in his eyes, hands clenched at his sides.

Obi-Wan held up his hands and shook his head. He wanted so much to believe he didn't know what Anakin was talking about, but now he knew. There was no other answer, really. How could he not have seen it? "I didn't take anything from you, Anakin," he replied, keeping his voice calm and even, such a far cry from the despair he felt.

"Do you think I'm _stupid_?" Anakin demanded, voice still raised. "You honestly think I _believe_ you?" He moved in a blur, somehow making it around Obi-Wan and to the door before Obi-Wan could muster an appropriate response.

"Anakin!"

The door slammed open and shut in a whirlwind of black cloak and pure, unadulterated anger. Obi-Wan yanked the door open and watched his Padawan running down the hallway. "Anakin!"

And here he was again, watching Anakin running away from him.

--

Anakin ran without destination, without caution, without _caring_ where he was going or how he would get there. He just had to get away. How could Obi-Wan simply stand there while Anakin hurled hate and furniture at him and still deny having betrayed Anakin on any level?

Unsurprisingly, Anakin found himself in the lower levels, standing in the doorway of the seedy bar this had all started in. It didn't matter, he realized. Now he had no choice but to lose himself down here. Obi-Wan was no doubt telling the Council about what had transpired, and Anakin knew he would never be allowed back.

What kind of Jedi used drugs to achieve enlightenment?

The same kind of Jedi, Anakin recognized, that needed the Zone of Self-Containment to feel human. Feeling physically numb and sick, Anakin slipped into the shadows.

--

This was the last place Obi-Wan had hoped to find his apprentice. He wasn't sure where he had expected Anakin to go, but he hadn't wanted his suspicions confirmed like this. He hadn't wanted to actually see the drug, hadn't wanted to see Anakin bent over a table, inhaling a line of blue powder. If he hadn't seen that, if he wasn't watching it happen, he would have been able to fool himself. He would have been able to convince himself that Anakin's outburst had simply been him cracking under the pressure of trying to excel in everything at once. Not this. Not something Obi-Wan should have sensed so long ago.

What kind of master was he, that he couldn't even sense such a radical problem in his apprentice?

He stayed in the shadows and watched as Anakin ingested more of the drug, and much more of a purple drink Obi-Wan didn't recognize. No, this wasn't right. He shouldn't just stand and watch his apprentice – his _friend_ – destroy himself like this – because that was what it seemed like Anakin's goal was.

But would marching over there and dragging Anakin out by his braid really help matters?

Certainly, it would keep Anakin from killing himself right before Obi-Wan's eyes. So it would be an immediate solution, but then what? What was he going to do when he got Anakin back to the Temple? He didn't know if he could stand any more of Anakin raging against him – it pained him too much, made him all too aware of his failings.

He tensed as Anakin raised his head and looked around the dark barroom. He was, for a brief moment, certain that Anakin could sense his presence, but the young man simply turned his attention back to the Twi'lek he was sharing a booth with.

Obi-Wan felt ill as the Twi'lek ran a long fingernail down Anakin's cheek, gently, tenderly. Anakin turned away from the contact, but the other being held out what Obi-Wan could only assume was a vial of the drug he'd been watching Anakin taking. Anakin reached for it, but the Twi'lek held it out of Anakin's reach, and once more caressed his face.

Like a kick to the gut, Obi-Wan realized what he was seeing. He found himself nearly doubled over in agony as he watched his apprentice begin to respond to the touches, nuzzling against the Twi'lek's hand. No, no he would _not_ watch this. Bad enough he had stood idly by while Anakin got himself into such a state that this… _this_… seemed like a good idea, but he would not watch while Anakin turned himself into nothing more than a common whore.

Pulling his lightsaber off his belt but keeping it hidden in his cloak, Obi-Wan strode purposely over to the table. "Get up," he commanded Anakin, pinning the Twi'lek to his seat with the Force.

Anakin swiveled his head towards Obi-Wan. Realizing who it was giving the order, he narrowed his bloodshot eyes and turned back to his table mate. "Don't mind him," he informed the Twi'lek, and Obi-Wan's heart wrenched at the sound of Anakin's voice. "Where were we?"

But Obi-Wan maintained his Force-grip on the Twi'lek, and grabbed Anakin's arm. "I am not going to watch this anymore, Anakin. We're going home." _Home_. And what would he do once they were home? Pretend he hadn't seen any of this, that he didn't know what was going on? No, he couldn't do that. But he also couldn't bring Anakin before the Council – doing so would be tantamount to leaving him here to fend for himself.

Anakin pulled out of Obi-Wan's grip and clumsily waved a hand at the Twi'lek, effectively neutralizing the Force-restraint enough for the other being to stand, drawing himself up to his full height and wrapping a hand around Anakin's arm.

Obi-Wan swallowed heavily as Anakin stumbled up from the booth and moved to join the Twi'lek. Never had Obi-Wan been so tempted to use his lightsaber against an unarmed being. Never had he been so tempted to use the Force against Anakin, if only to save him from himself.

"Anakin, please." Every bit of love and compassion he felt was channeled into those words, and Obi-Wan wrapped his love around Anakin like a cloak, hoping against hope that this, if nothing else, would at least make Anakin realize what he was doing.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan desperately, obviously torn between what he considered his old life, and what new life he had been reduced to. The Twi'lek tightened his grip on Anakin's arm, making the young man wince.

"Get your own," the Twi'lek hissed.

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin pleading with him for help, and even if the words would not come, the intention in Anakin's glazed eyes was all that mattered. "This one is mine," Obi-Wan replied, surprising himself. He reached out and released Anakin from the Twi'lek's grip, holding tightly as his apprentice stumbled and fell against him. "And I will be taking him now."


	6. falling down on me

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I…" Anakin repeated the words over and over, like a mantra, all the way back to the Temple, pausing only when he lapsed out of consciousness for a moment now and then.

Obi-Wan considered bringing Anakin directly to the Healers, but realized that doing so would raise far more questions than either of them could answer. So it was back to their apartment, with the hope that Anakin hadn't done permanent damage to himself.

Trying to get Anakin undressed had been an uphill battle, so finally Obi-Wan contented himself with getting his boots and cloak off and leaving the rest for the time being. He didn't want to leave his apprentice alone, both out of fear he would only get sicker as the night went on, and of what would happen in the morning, when Anakin realized what had happened.

So instead of leaving Anakin to his own devices, Obi-Wan brought him into his own room and laid him gently on the bed. For a long time, he watched the deep, gentle breathing of his Padawan, and finally made up his mind. He couldn't stand seeing Anakin alone like that.

Pulling off his own cloak and boots, he curled himself around Anakin, holding him tightly, as though both their lives depended on it.

And maybe they did.

--

Anakin reached out and implanted a gentle sleep-suggestion in the mind of his master. He didn't want Obi-Wan waking up in the middle of this – he'd caused enough trouble, he didn't want to have to explain himself now. Extricating himself from Obi-Wan's arms was a chore, and Anakin decided he did not want to know why Obi-Wan had decided to sleep beside him.

Then the events of the previous night rushed back, and Anakin found himself running to the 'fresher to vomit. How could he have acted like that? In front of Obi-Wan? As if Obi-Wan knowing wasn't bad enough, his master had actually had to see him… drugging and drinking himself into oblivion, allowing that creature to touch him – and touching the creature back. All this had been so he could be a better Jedi, and now he wasn't going to be a Jedi at all.

He was going to be nothing. Just another statistic, just another number in the world beyond the Temple – the world Anakin knew he would have to become part of, now that he would be gone from here.

Well, he decided, it would be best to save Obi-Wan the trouble of kicking him out. Once he was able to move again, Anakin softly padded into his own room and threw everything he could see into a bag. His lightsaber he left on the bedside table. If he was no longer a Jedi, he no longer needed a lightsaber. No longer _deserved_ a lightsaber.

Taking a last look into his apartment, his home for the past eight years, Anakin felt his insides twist. He had tried so hard. He had wanted this _so_ much. And now… The disappointed face of his mother rose unbidden into his mind. He had failed her. He had left her behind to become a Jedi, and now he had nothing to offer her, nothing to show her for all the time he had spent away from her.

His mother's face shifted, and became Obi-Wan's, and the horrible twisting feeling got worse. If his mother's disappointment was painful, Obi-Wan's was agony. He had failed his mother, but even more so, he had failed Obi-Wan.

Slipping silently out the door, Anakin consoled himself with the idea he would never disappoint Obi-Wan again.

--

Obi-Wan woke much later than he had intended. Stretching out in his bed, he realized that something was missing. Something rather important.

_Anakin_.

Throwing off the covers, Obi-Wan sprang from his bed, reaching out with the Force for his Padawan. He slammed open the door to the 'fresher, in the vain hope that Anakin was throwing up, or taking a shower, or something. Nothing.

And nothing in the main living area, or the kitchen. But in Anakin's room…

Literally, nothing. Everything Anakin owned was gone, with one notable exception.

With tears of frustration in his eyes, Obi-Wan picked up Anakin's lightsaber and gripped it tightly, as though doing so would connect him to Anakin, wherever he was. What had gone wrong? Why hadn't he seen this coming? He hugged the lightsaber to his chest and dropped onto Anakin's unmade bed. How could he have been such a fool?

His Anakin was gone, and Obi-Wan felt lost.

--

Anakin had no intention of immediately returning to the lower city. His body was threatening to betray him in every way possible, and he knew if he set foot down there, he would only seek out an expensive cure. He did not want to give power to his addiction – not yet.

Instead, he went to the place he considered as far away from the lower city as one could get on Coruscant.

The Temple spire towered over Coruscant, dwarfing even the Senate buildings and 500 Republica. Anakin had been up here several times over the course of his training, and each time, the view and the sense of absolute power centered him, gave him focus. Never, though, had he been up alone. And he had never been up in such a desperate state of mind, such an ill state of body.

He raised his hood to block out the wind that perpetually plagued such heights, and drew his cloak tightly around himself. He would stay long enough to collect his thoughts, to plan his next move, and then he would be gone. And then Obi-Wan could have the apprentice he deserved, and Anakin would have the life _he_ deserved.

With a jarring sob, Anakin dropped to the ground – the roof, really - the cold stone chilling him, even through his thick robes. He had never felt so very alone, so very out of control. His anger and fear swirled around him in a dark tempest, and Anakin allowed his tears to fall. Just this once – for what he was losing. What he himself had thrown away.

Obi-Wan…

--

_Obi-Wan_…

The desperate plea broke through Obi-Wan's self-pitying meditations, and the Jedi master snapped his eyes open. He could feel Anakin's Force signature, dark and dangerous, close by. His Padawan's shields were in tatters, and Obi-Wan could sense every dark emotion Anakin was feeling.

Springing to his feet, Obi-Wan nearly fell to his knees under the weight of his bond with Anakin. He was so close… so very close. Still in the Temple, Obi-Wan recognized. Still clutching Anakin's lightsaber, he left the apartment, letting the Force guide him through corridors and up levels, and through doors he had never opened before, until he found himself at the top of the spire, looking down at the bustling city-planet below.

Anakin was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the spire, his head down. Beside him was a black bag Obi-Wan could only assume contained Anakin's belongings.

"Anakin…" His voice caught in his throat, so he approached Anakin carefully sat down beside him. _Oh_ how he wished Qui-Gon was here. "Anakin, I…" He laid a hand on Anakin's shoulder, and the young man pulled away violently.

"Leave me alone," he demanded, turning to face away from Obi-Wan. The pain in his voice cut Obi-Wan, and he hoped that he alone would be able to help. The only thing Obi-Wan could think of that would be worse than this moment would be the moment the Council threw Anakin out of the Order. But that would not happen – not if Obi-Wan had anything to say about it.

"No," Obi-Wan replied, again putting an arm around Anakin's shoulders, pulling him close. "I'm not leaving you alone. I'm not reporting you to the Council. I'm not going to do anything…" He took a breath. "Anything but be your friend."

Anakin looked at him curiously. "You're… _not_ going to report me?" he asked, incredulous. "But… I…" He shook his head in amazement, then buried his face in his hands. "I screwed up so bad," he sobbed, and Obi-Wan found himself brushing tears out of his eyes. "Ferus was right. I liked it _too much_."

Obi-Wan pulled Anakin even closer, enveloping him in the folds of his robe. "Ferus Olin will never know what it feels like to be you, Anakin," he informed his apprentice. "No one will. I get the feeling sometimes _you_ don't even know."

Anakin sniffled and moved closer to Obi-Wan, resting his head on his master's shoulder. "But he was right. When I was with Zan Arbor, I felt… I was the perfect Jedi. I could concentrate – I… I let the Force guide me, even when I wasn't fighting. I didn't… I didn't want to give that up."

Obi-Wan nodded carefully. He'd had his suspicions about the origins of Anakin's troubles, but hearing it confirmed filled him with an even deeper grief. If only he had stayed with Anakin during that mission. If only he had gotten there sooner to rescue him… But life could not be lived through "if only's." "I can understand that," Obi-Wan admitted – and it was certainly true. He could completely understand wanting to be able to let go of all emotion and attachment in the service of the Force –something that, until Zan Arbor and the other drug, Anakin had struggled with. "But there are other ways."

Anakin nodded. "I know, but…" He didn't finish his thought. Instead, he flung his arms around Obi-Wan's neck and held him so tight Obi-Wan was almost afraid Anakin would cut off his oxygen supply. "What did you do?" Anakin asked suddenly, still burying his head in Obi-Wan's shoulder. "In the bar? You looked at me, and I felt… warm."

Obi-Wan smiled to himself. So he had gotten through to him. Closing his eyes and opening his mind to the Force, Obi-Wan harnessed every bit of love, every ounce of compassion and affection and comforting feelings that he held for his apprentice, and let it flow through their bond, wrapping them both up in it.

So with his arms around Anakin's body, and his love around Anakin's mind, he stood and pulled his young man from the edge.


End file.
